


kjósa

by savedby



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/pseuds/savedby
Summary: Patric keeps building nests in Carl's house.





	kjósa

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and possibly ill-advised.

 

 

It starts in the summer.

 

“Good morning, Hags!”

 

“Hi, Horny. Have you made a nest out of my dress shirts?”

 

Patric’s silhouette is dark and hunched over in the dim light of Carl’s closet. 

 

“I’m sorry. They’re very comfortable.”

 

There’s a flash of something in the darkness. Light reflecting off Patric’s teeth. Or a claw.

 

“It’s okay. I have plenty,” Carl says, leaning against the doorway. “Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?”

 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

 

 

*

 

 

Returning with breakfast, Carl finds the lights on and Patric meticulously folding shirts on the floor. 

 

“I shredded this one, sorry.”

 

“That’s okay. It’s a pretty ugly one.”

 

“Well, it suits you.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”

 

“Keep guessing.”

 

“Are you okay to go to the gym today?”

 

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Patric looks surprised by the question. As if waking up in Carl’s closet, partially transformed, is something that doesn’t constitute an unusual happening.

 

 

*

 

 

Patric is a Valkyrie. Or rather, he’s descended from one, blood diluted through generations of Hornqvists. 

 

“They weren’t really godlike though. That’s just what people thought they were like.”

 

“What were they actually like?”

 

“More giant birds of prey, less beautiful women with access to the afterlife.”

 

“I don’t think anyone could mistake you for a beautiful woman.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”

 

“Keep guessing.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Sorry about the couch cushions, Hags.”

 

“It’s okay. It’s just instinct, right? You can’t help it.”

 

“I could take the suppressants.”

 

“Your doctor says it’s not good for you.”

 

“No, but, I keep ruining your stuff.”

 

“It’s not a big deal.”

 

“But-”

 

“Why don’t you just take a key to the house? You’re always welcome here.”

 

“...wait, really?”

 

“Yeah. Here.”

 

“Thanks. I’m sorry for breaking the window again.”

 

“It’s okay. The repair guy is giving me a discount.”

 

 

*

 

 

They have their Cup Day together. It’s a smaller production this time around, just some family and their close friends. 

 

Carl wakes up in the middle of the night with all the blankets in his house in a pile at his feet, and Patric curled up on top of them, his claws gripping onto the Stanley Cup.

 

The sight of it leaves him inexplicably warm. 

 

 

*

 

 

It’s the end of August, almost time for them to leave Sweden for Pittsburgh and another season.

 

“Horny? Are you in the closet again?”

 

Silence.

 

“Horny?”

 

Silence, even though Patric’s silhouette is clearly visible in the dark.

 

“Do you want some breakfast?”

 

“...no.”

 

“...okay. Are you going to come out of there?”

 

“...no.”

 

 

*

 

 

Carl waits until noon before finally caving and calling Patric’s doctor to explain the situation.

 

“It’s better for him to rest today. If he wants to stay inside, let him. He won’t have an appetite, but try to get him to eat something if you can. The symptoms should be gone by tomorrow.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?”

 

“He didn’t tell you?”

 

“No.”

 

“I thought-”

 

“What?”

 

“Nesting is behaviour usually exhibited with mated pairs. I just assumed.”

 

“Oh. Is that what he’s been doing?”

 

“Yes. Now that summer is over, so is the incubation period for his species.”

 

“I still don’t understand.”

 

“Males of his species can’t get pregnant, but his body has been preparing for the birth anyway. It’s understandable that it’s a bit of a shock for him.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Horny? Can I come in?”

 

“...yeah.”

 

Carl closes the door of the closet behind him, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. He takes a few careful steps, holding onto the clothing on the racks until his feet hit something soft. Patric’s nest.

 

Carl drops to his knees and reaches out until he finds Patric’s hand in the dark. 

 

“I called your doctor. He explained.”

 

“...there are no babies, Hags.” He’s never heard Patric’s voice sound like that. Never wants to hear it again.

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

Patric sniffles. Carl moves carefully until he’s close enough to wrap him in a hug. It’s not entirely comfortable because Patric is bigger and his claws are somewhere in the vicinity of Carl’s kidneys. They manage.

 

“Hey, Horny? Can I ask you something?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why my house?”

 

“...it was the safest place I could think of,” Patric says and Carl’s chest floods with warmth and affection for him.

 

“The doctor said this usually happens to mated partners.”

 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. My body must have mixed the signals somehow.”

 

“Maybe it didn’t,” Carl says, softly. He presses a kiss to Patric’s hair. It feels like soft feathers. 

 

Patric sighs and burrows closer, and Carl makes adjusts so they’re both lying on top of what feels like a pile of his designer suits. They really are very comfortable.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The road to this idea was long and winding, but follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/holtdad) for more nuggets like these.


End file.
